The plan was for Hiyo, Shinyo and Ryuho to race ahead, race into the Arafura sea. Two of these ships are far astern now, Hiyo listing, half her machinery spaces flooded. Shinyo detached, unmanageable. Both have but a single destroyer as escort.

In these waters, with so many Buka's lurking about..................

Protect the living, let the dead rest...............

Takeji greets Hidaka with a smile, a smile that this half light looks even more gahstly...he has, it seems, aged 20 years in 20 hours. he hands the latest slip to Hidake..........'Good morning dead man"

'Ney?"

"read it, and weep...........or laugh, whatever takes your fancy"

The signal is simple. An intercepted American message. "have sunk CVL Zuiho position XYZ"

Even as Combined fleet chases the rain, hiding from what ever the reeling allies can retaliate with, part two of the plan erupts into action

Flush em out, and kill them

Many ships, a great many ships have fled towards wessel island, deep in the Arafura sea. The wolves are released

Flying from Biak, from the nest of airfields there, the carefully preserved betty units come a hunting.. Some hit Hollandia, and die. But a great many attack into these waters that until now have been considered safe, , and the killing begins. Forstall invasions. That has been the grand plan. 18 betties find a convoy north of Wessel island, the torpedoes strike. 5 large APA's are sunk Further raids will kill more.

Zuiho meets a brilliant clear dawn Few, if any, have slept this night, but right now, it does not matter. Over a azure green sea, white caps strewn as far as the eye can see, the carriers have turned into wind

Over the night, Yamato and Musashi have pounded Thursday islend, Chokai and Atago have hit Darwin again, and Nagato has added her metal to babar Allied air power is all but grounded. Its been a while since combined fleet has had the pleasure.........

Bones in teeth, they launch.

300 bombers, 60 fighters, target Thursday island.

There is no aerial opposition, and every plane returns, the base annihilated.

Hidaka gathers his pilots about him. The wind is whipping hard, cold today, the decks under their feet wet from the scattered showers. Zuiho trembles beneath his feet, she is steaming hard, as are her brothers, hard into the Arafura sea.

The fleet has split into two, regathered its destroyers, the battleships, even some cruisers. Shokaku, Zuikaku, Taiho, Ryuho, Aso, Chitose, Chiyoda are now 60 miles behind them.

Soryu leads Zuiho and 4 unryu class south at high speed, today they must, simply must reap a harvest.

Hidaka seeks the eyes of his men. They are tired men now, very tired. .......

"Samuri never sleep, never weary, until victory, or until death yes?" The men do not answer. They do not have to, they know as well as any man alive the Japanese warrior code. "Good." Hidaka draws his sword, examines the blade in the morning light, watches the salt spray begin to speckle its brilliant shine. He shoves it back into its scabbard with a satisfactory hiss "Time to live to it.......to your planes men"

Soryu raises her flags, and turns her bows into the wind

Takeji gives his orders, and zuiho plants her face into the sweet smell of salt and spray. The steam trails down the deck "Commence launching"

And on this Morning, just as her last aircraft depart, Zuikaku is finally caught by a fish..........

On the face of it, especially with Zuikaku's hit, this is a mission of futility. But dig further.

Into Timor.........another regiment is inserted where it should never have been allowed to. To the north of Timor, yet more troops arrive safely in nominally allied air range. Troops that will have to be destroyed, which will take time, and time is now pushing against the Allies. With so many aircraft damaged or destroyed, and now the equivalent of 2 divisions of lift sunk, how badly has Japan disrupted plans for advancement into the DEI?

Time will tell, but for now, for this day, there is another, more subtle mission.

April 44, and Combined fleet is sending a very special message to Allied command It still has the capacity to dominate an area of ITS choosing. And for Herbiesan, seeking to further weaken allied moral, this is a very good thing indeed.

Above them, the hatch is again screwed down, the world barred to them. It is going to be a long, long day. Zuiho's engines beat the same beat, the fans scream, his men are at their posts.

Fear is at the door.

But what can one do? There is nothing one can do, but wait. Wait and bare it.

He has his cup of tea, he has a couple of pork rolls, stolen nicely earlier this morning, and he has his guage. Pressure guages, something he has never really been able to get his head around..but maybe today he will.

Carefully charge removes the back cover, the little screws placed into a cup. He peers at the guages innards. How in the hell, my little friend, do you work? Tentatively, he pokes at a spring.

"Crap" Not a good move.......... OK, lets try this.........

In another world, another universe, darwin is struck by the wieght of 200 bombers.........

"Another cup Chief?" No, not now, I think I have this worked out.........'"No, no thanks, get me an oil can can you please?'......

In another world, bombers attack the main body...........and are shot down to a man.

And before you know it, its midday

Ziuho bounces...........the bombers returning from the search

The tannoy speaks again 'Takeji here...........we are going to strike an enemy task force to our south, prepare strike aircraft"

The guage works now, works perfectly. Hunger suddenly bites. A long day indeed.

Yet again, the calls for full power. Zuiho, launching her strike............

Food comes, welcome indeed. With it, the outside world, and real news. The weather?, cruddy, the enemy?, nary a sign. although some Liberators were sighted on the horizon. The fleet?.........nobody hit yet, apparently.

The hours drag by, the engines whine, the air remains hot, the news thin

Aircraft are recoverd, apparently. All of them And then, just like that.........."hands fall out of action stations, assume state 2" Charge meets the watch change, chats a bit, then its the sweet night air.

Attacking heavily armed bombers is no joke................ Hidaka attacks the great beast from the rear.

The attack begins out on the port side, and he literrally skids and sweeps his fighter across its tail , left to right, then wheels into its rear right flank, peeling down and away under its tail.

Oh so easy to picture, not so easy to do. Tracer chases him all the way, whipping frighteningly close, his dancing in reply across the bukas great fat arse......

But even as he wrenches the stick to climb back, the man, the Zuiho man following him streaks past, wing breaking free, the zero already beginning to turn into a white hot meteor of flame and death...........

Tone steams on his flank, her main guns barking. Even Kirishima's 14 inchers are pointing skyward....

About the bombers the fighters dance, bees to the deadly flowers..........and at least three fall, black streaks, fluttering wings and fuselages...... 7000 feet..........a suicidal height for heavy bombers.

Tone gets one. Then another. the black, purple, orange green clouds chase the beasts closer, and closer, the guns raising, and raising. The little black beetles begin to fall......a moment of calculation, Zuiho is not targetted.......

Ok 1st, thanks to all PMs, thankfully game seems to continue, cantona is teaching 4 nights a week, trying to learn to drive, and is about to have a baby, so getting a room together. So real life is getting in his way..............

To be honest, one just has to give Cantona a chance

April 14th

"I seem to be doing this too much" thinks Takeji, as he lowers his glasses again. But despite all internal resolutions to not do it, ones eyes just keep being dragged back to the great warship 1000 yards away.

Zuikaku continues to drag herself painfully through the seas., her deck tilted at more than 20 degrees, her bow low. her flooding has stabilised, it seems, yet her painful progress remains at 7 lousy knots. About her, spread across this bright blue mill pond, the fleet plods on.

The escorts do, that is. The carriers need wind across the deck today, and they have had a busy day completing racetracks about Zuikaku, , a task far easier to talk about than do.

But there have been no SSattacks, not yet , anyway..........

Zuiho's Jills are all away, flying ASW patrol, her zeros, (only 11 available today!) constantly launching and recovering as they add to the CAP. Even with out action, after 5 days of battle, this task alone is testing her mens endurance to the limit..

Takeji murmers to himself the words that surely a thousand others out here with him have thought.'Just one more day......just one"

One more day, and they will be out of enemy air range.

Zuikaku may be crippled, yet Abe has not yet abandoned her. The intent is clear, the Admiral will make home on his flagship, or not at all. Like every man in his fleet, he is at the very edge of exhaustion now, thoughts break in mid stream, calculations are all but impossible, decisions, once so clear and quick, now clouded, foggy..........hard to reach. He sits still in his chair on the bridge, feet braced against the heel, and stares numbly at the latest message from one of CV Aso's Jills

8 fleet carriers 40 miles due West of horn island, speed 20 knots, many escorts..........

With a great effort, he struggles from his chair, climbs the hill to the chart table. With out a word he passes the signal to Zuikaku's captain. ''Trouble?" 'read it"

The Captain curls it into a ball. 'Yes, trouble indeed. .............if they sprint over night........." "They could catch us tomorrow, yes"

A long silence, the fleets CAP background music to this most vital of decisions. "Not enough torpedoes, too many tired men, too many lost men in fact.............."

Wearily, almost with finality, Abe sits back into his Chair "Assign 6 destroyers to us, we must detach the fleet, get them the hell out of here. Biak must provide Cap for us..........The Americans are cautious, maybe they will not come............."

Abe is tired, so very tired. And maybe that is good. It never occurs to him that a mere week ago, he would have ordered Combined fleet to rush south to seek battle.

Endure the un endurable. War tests men. tests them to their very core. It strips personalities fake and vain, it crumbles personal defences built over years. It exposes teir inner core to the flame of exhaustion, the blow torch of courage, the temperance of patence.

Somw wilt, some melt. But for many, it forges a new core, a tempered, hardened, stronger core. A core that will remain for life. I know this to be true. I have met these men. Old men, many of them now, but men who, even as others slip into twilight years, will still be carrying on life as if it has just begun. Men who look at the problems of this world, at those who do not know, and smile wryly, and look with eyes that simply say........you have no idea.............

Zuiho steams north, the fleet appears to have escaped, the Celebe seas sliding under her bow. She is quiet today, as men sleep, and rest, and recover. Inner cores are cooling, tempered again by war. Zuiho sails, her crew still exhausted. But stronger than ever.

Thai troops, those maligned men, have also found their inner core. They retreat now, no headlong rush for safety this. They retreat, what few remain. They have fought, and fought, and died in their positions. The british may eventually re conquer Thialand. They will never own it.

One few will ever hear off, one the Allies , even now, are un aware of.

Mid September, 15000 japanese troops, trapped on manus island, no food, no supplies, no fuel, and no airstrip. And no hope.

Tonight, under their noses, from a field long repaired (but cunningly hidden of that fact), the last men will be flown out. japans transports have been very, very busy of late. War is not won by evacuations (as a great man once said) But to these 15000, this sure tastes better than defeat.

This corner is a corner of shadows, of impersonal machinery, of dripping drains, steam and noise. It is not the cleanest place either. But mostly, it is a place of shadows.

A machine sits here, the main condensate pump. It smells again today, of over hot bearings, of metal failure, of hidden disaster. An old man sits here, staring at this machine. A man aged decades in days. A man, pushed, and pushed, and bent and bent. Tears stream from his face

"Not again you truker, what the truk did I do to you, you bloody machine?". What hell are you putting me in?" The machine does not care. It does not even know it is broken

Lt Jones shifts in his seat for the hundredth time, and repeats to himself again the same damn thought. FUBAR.

Beyond all understanding

The Commander of this chicken **** outfit had been full of the confidence and bravado of one who did not actually have to fly this mission. "gentlemen, we are going to send the japs a message they cannot ignore"

FUBAR

12 of the big new B-29s had been slated for this mission. 4 had been unready for the day, (just reinforcing the growing opinion of many that this bombers was a beautiful and deadly hanger queen), there had been no bombs for two others, one had crashed on take off, and Christ knew where Simpson had gotten too..........

FUBAR

"Tsingtao coming up" "Roger" Another chinese city sliding below, the four remaining bombers bouncing, weaving in the turbulance as they cross the coast and begin to transit the Yellow sea. Who in the hell thought 11000 feet was going to be the attack altitude? Surprise is good, but.............

Lt Jones did not join to fight this war, he joined to fight the germans so busy killing is jewish kin.......this, he knows, is not how it was meant to be. Who in the hell cares about restoring the British Empire in the East?!

No, he should be in London, fighting with the 8th Air army..............not trying to get this beast of some dust bowl Northern China strip.........attacking god knows how many little yellow barsteds with just 4 planes..........

"Ships ahead!"

Jones leans, looks hard to his right...............a convoy..........

FUBAR

He clicks the Mike " There goes surprise guys, keep your eyes peeled"

They power on, the miles rapidly sliding below.

"Saishu To coming up, right on course skipper"

"Nakadori Jima .............come right 10 degrees, new course 060"

Ahead, Nagasaki.....and a gazzillion little angry men...............

"Fighters!...............Starboard side...........20 plus"

And now we find out just how good these bombers can be............ "OK guys, stick tight.........commencing bomber run...."

LT Jones bomber spins down from the sky, glittering, its great wings carving great graceful arcs, the bright glare of the flames the pivit about which they spin. The sea rises to destroy him, beautiful, green..............